


darling, you're the one i want

by pleurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Confessions, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Flirting, Happy Ending, High Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: The worst part isn’t the sugar daddy jokes, or the wolf-whistles and ‘get a room’s that Tony gets from the team when he accidentally-on-purpose lets a touch linger a tad bit too long on Peter’s lower back. The worst part is that Tony actuallywantsit all to be true.





	darling, you're the one i want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicatelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/gifts).

> I tried to include a handful of your favourite tropes in this one. I hope you enjoy it, and have a happy Multifandom Tropefest! 
> 
> Set post-FFH in an AU where Tony and Nat get resurrected a couple years after their deaths. Tony and Pepper are not together, but are on friendly terms and co-parent Morgan. 
> 
> Title from [Paper Rings - Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zdg-pDF10g), which I looped while writing this fic.
> 
> Written anonymously for a fic exchange, but I’ve now re-dated the fic for author reveals.

Sometimes, Tony finds himself wishing they hadn’t collectively decided to demolish the time travelling contraption. He’d do anything for the ability to go back to wherever it all began— _ however _it all began— and erase whatever hints he might have dropped that he and Peter were somehow, improbably, in a relationship of a romantic and sexual nature.

They’re on a mission with pretty much every available member of the team dispatched, because they need all the manpower they can get for this one. It apparently isn’t enough to deter the Avengers from taking this whole thing very lightly. When the freakish giant aliens lunge at Peter, Tony whisks him away just in time before he’s smacked against a wall, and Thor lets out a whopping cheer. 

“A worthy husband,” Thor declares when Tony joins up with him.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” says Tony. 

He looks over at Peter to make sure Peter hadn't heard Thor's declaration, but Peter's preoccupied with fighting. A new swarm of aliens have descended on him, but Peter takes care of them all in one quick swoop of his shiny new waldoes, upgraded just last night. The display of super strength, combined with Peter wearing the tech _he_ made, distracts Tony for a hot second.

“How come you never give _ me _any cool upgrades?” says Scott, towering in his giant form and snapping Tony back to reality. “Never mind, don’t know why I asked. Of course your sugar baby gets the best suit of them all.”

“How do you have time for this, Gulliver?” Tony tosses back, at the very moment that a purple alien claw nearly knocks Scott off his feet. “Yeah, that’s right. You don’t.”

The worst part isn’t the sugar daddy jokes, or the wolf-whistles and _ ‘get a room’ _ s that Tony gets from the team when he accidentally-on-purpose lets a touch linger a tad bit too long on Peter’s lower back. (He was bracing Peter steady, okay? Making sure he didn’t trip when the bad guys nearly bowled him over.) The worst part is that Tony actually _ wants _ it all to be true. 

The thought is distracting enough that an alien lands a clean hit on Tony’s foot. Not hard enough to break anything, but the suit’s jets crackle and blink off, and he starts to freefall through the sky. Moments later, he’s caught in the arms of one Peter Parker, because that’s just how his life goes these days.

“Nice catch, kid,” says Tony.

“I’ll always catch you, Tony,” says Peter. Tony can hear his grin through the mask. 

“You know, this is nice for a change,” says Tony as Peter easily disposes of the villains surrounding them, quick reflexes and super strength channelled into one arm as he continues to hold Tony in the other. “If I’d known I could just sit back and let you do all the fighting for me, I wouldn’t have come on this mission at all.” He pokes self-indulgently at Peter’s bicep, which is flexing very attractively right in front of him. 

Peter chuckles, probably rolling his eyes under the mask. “Yeah, yeah. God knows what I’d do without you.”

Tony doesn’t know how to respond. Even without that line, Tony has to admit to himself that this moment is romantically charged at best and openly flirtatious at worst. But Peter, apparently, doesn’t think the same. He just drops Tony back down onto his feet casually.

“Stop flirting for a sec, will you?” says Scott over the comm. “We need some help over here.”

There's a retort on the tip of Tony's tongue, but he decides not to push it when he sees that they really _ do _ need some help— they’re being surrounded on all sides. "On it, Arrietty," he says, and flies over. Grounding himself in the physical movements of the fight, he manages to convince himself that the adrenaline rushing through him is from something other than Peter Parker.

When it’s all over, he looks over at Peter, who’s animatedly debriefing the mission with Bruce and Nat. Watching him, Tony feels that familiar burst of pride in his chest at how Peter has grown into himself over the years. Sure, it had probably been crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid into a fight for adults. But now, that kid was an adult, and he was more than capable of holding his own in an all-Avengers mission, and of carrying Tony bridal style while kicking villain ass. 

The kid was an adult, and technically, legally, it was— 

No. _ No. _ He’d gotten used to screaming _ Tony, no _at himself many times over the years. It never seemed to work. The sunlight gleams off of the Iron Spider armour. Peter’s face smiles brightly, and the stray curl hanging in front of his forehead frames his face so adorably that Tony just can’t look away. 

That is, until Thor claps Tony on the back in a show of unnecessary brute strength. “So, mission accomplished,” he says with his classic cheery smile. “Shall we have shawarmas for dinner to regain our energy, as per tradition?”

Peter’s not the only one who’s come a long way. The whole team has, too. Tony’s grateful for the family he once built, and then failed to hold together with cheap glue. He never thought that they'd build themselves back together after all. He wonders how much of that had to do with Peter’s easygoing nature and irresistible smile, tugging along even the most different people into a natural sense of camaraderie. He just wishes it didn’t come at the cost of the entire team constantly rubbing Tony’s unrequited feelings in his own face, but hey. Nothing’s perfect. 

Tony doesn’t expect Peter, though, to be the one to pipe up and say, “Sorry, we can’t. Tony and I have to finish last night’s leftovers, and we’re still doing our _ The Office _marathon.”

Okay. Yeah. Tony understands the look that Rhodey, Sam, and even Bucky give him. 

“Tony Stark, eating last night’s leftovers,” says Rhodey. “What a concept.”

Tony purposely ignores the inflection in Rhodey's voice, and directs his response at the rest of the team. “Yeah, you can count us out for tonight. Next time, though. You’ve got my word on that.” 

With that, the team disbands with their usual chatter, and Tony turns to Peter. “Shall we?” says Peter, extending an arm valiantly for him to hold.

Tony hooks his arm in Peter’s. “We shall,” he says, and as they walk off, Tony tries desperately to ignore the hole opening up in the pit of his stomach that says, _ yep, I’m definitely digging my own grave. _

-

“Oh, come on,” says Peter, scowling at the TV in Tony’s room at the compound, where they usually hang out after work hours. “Why can’t they just get together already?”

Tony neglects to mention that he’s spent the better part of the past five minutes hyper-focusing on the way Peter’s knee is pressed to his thigh, the warmth that radiates from his skin, and the way his arm is slung over the back of the couch where if Tony just leaned back a couple inches he’d be touching it. Convincing Peter to live at the compound while he looked for jobs (after finishing his undergrad in a mere three years) was probably the best thing Tony had ever done, if it meant he could have _ this_. Oh, right, and inventing time travel, too. That was also on the list.

“Who?” says Tony, remembering belatedly that Peter was talking to him.

“Pam and Jim,” says Peter. “Like, the whole audience knows they like each other. They've got to stop flirting and do something about it.” He shoves a mouthful of last night’s shrimp fried rice into his mouth and chews on it.

“Didn’t expect you to get so worked up over a sitcom,” says Tony. “You know, kid, sometimes people don’t see what’s right in front of them. That’s life.” 

Peter gulps down his bite with a sip of water, and looks at Tony thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right,” he says. For a moment, Tony feels something palpable hanging between them. Then Peter turns back to the TV, and whatever’s between them is broken when he laughs at a joke on screen. 

Tony’s not stupid. He knows full well it’s possible that Peter returns his feelings. Sure, there are some situations Tony might be reading too much into, some that are just friendly banter between colleagues and friends. But there are others that carry the hint of something more. 

So yeah, Tony’s not stupid. What he is, though, is _ afraid. _ It’s easier to let things remain this way, just toeing the line of _ something more, _never crossing it. This was easier than getting into a relationship that Tony knew would blow up spectacularly, like every other relationship he’d been in. Easier than trapping Peter in a relationship he would regret five or ten years down the road, if he even managed to make it through one. 

“Tony? Earth to Tony,” says Peter, nudging Tony with his elbow. When Tony looks at him, Peter smiles, dazzlingly bright, and thinks, rather selfishly, that he couldn’t risk the chance to never see that smile again. Couldn’t risk asking a question that had a non-zero chance of getting Peter to walk right out the door. Five years without Peter had been bad enough. An eternity without him? Tony would never survive it.

“Yeah, kid?” he says in response. 

“I was just saying that I’m going to be heading out on patrol tonight,” says Peter. 

Tony quirks an eyebrow up. “Again? We just had an all-Avengers mission. I’m sure Queens will be okay for one night.” 

Peter shrugs. “It’s just, well, there’s this bar a few blocks away from here, and last time I was there the bartender told me she was being followed after work. I just want to make sure everyone gets home safe. It’ll be fine, I’ll be home by three in the morning. Just don’t wait up for me, okay? And don’t watch any episodes without me, I want to see your reactions.” 

“Okay,” says Tony, wondering for what must be the hundredth time how the world could possibly deserve someone as unequivocally, genuinely _ good _as Peter was. He ruffles Peter’s hair, trying to twist the affection that must be showing on his face into something platonic and mentorly. It seems to work. Peter grins from ear to ear, and gets up off the couch to change into his suit. Tony watches him leave out the window, with a smile and a wave, and then decides he’ll distract himself with some lab work.

-

Natasha finds him in the lab, bent over his latest project, an upgrade to Scott’s suit. Most of them chose not to stay at the compound, preferring to live their own lives and pop in once in a while. Natasha was one of the few who did, meaning that she was always around, like now, to nudge him when he didn’t want to be nudged.

“It’s three in the morning,” she says. “We just finished a mission. The suit can wait.” 

“Science never sleeps,” says Tony without looking up. “And what are you doing up?”

“I have a thing or two in common with science.” Natasha smiles. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That, at least, is something they both understand. Tony finally looks up, and jerks his chin at the cup of coffee she’s holding. “And you thought that black coffee was going to help.”

“It’s decaf,” Natasha says. “You know, when I first walked in here half awake, I thought you were Peter.” 

Tony scoffs. “I love being flattered as much as the next guy, but that's way too much of a stretch.” 

Natasha puts down her coffee and leans against the workbench, looking at the wall opposite them as she talks. “I came in here the other day, and he was working on an adjustment to his web-shooters. Bent over in the exact same position that you were. He told you, didn’t he, about how he learned to work with your lab tech to fight Mysterio, after we were gone?”

Tony finds it hard to breathe around the sudden tightness in his throat. “Yeah. It’s a good thing we came back so I could school him on the difference between AC/DC and Led Zeppelin,” he tries to joke, but it comes out tight. 

“You’re waiting up for him,” says Natasha. It’s not a question, but a statement. 

“I’m not. Like you, I couldn’t sleep.” 

She shrugs, as if to say _ suit yourself. _“You know, he asked me something, the other day. He asked me about the afterlife. Whether it was the same as the one that those who’d been snapped went off to. He wanted to know if we— specifically, you— retained those wounds that you had when you died. If you were in pain during those years, or at peace.”

It was true that he’d been with Natasha for that period of time. The lives of those who had died by the hands of the stones were kept on some separate plane of existence. Not quite the afterlife— some kind of in-between land of limbo. Time there didn't pass the same way— faster, yet slower, somehow. And then, one day, they’d been returned to this plane of existence. It had been shortly after Peter’s high school graduation, Tony remembers. He remembers walking up to Peter for the first time— remembers Peter throwing himself into Tony’s arms and sobbing into the fabric of his shirt. He remembers asking Peter what he wanted for a graduation gift, and Peter answering that he’d already gotten the best present he could ask for.

“And what did you tell him?” asks Tony.

“I told him the truth. That you weren’t in any physical pain, but it was obvious that you were worried sick about him. That asides from Morgan, he was all you talked about.” 

Tony swallows hard. “He could’ve had that conversation with me. I could’ve told him the same thing.” 

“You could’ve,” Natasha agrees. “But it looks to me like there are a lot of things you two haven’t told each other.”

“Since when did you care about gossip so much?”

“I don’t,” says Natasha. “I care about my friends, and getting things through their thick skulls.”

She walks away with that slightly scathing assessment. Tony looks down at what he’s working on. He’s made zero progress on Scott’s suit. He really _ was _ waiting for Peter to come back, even without himself knowing. He’d been swiped from existence once, and so had Peter. They’d both been dropped back into a world they knew considerably less about now than when they left it. Maybe that's why it’s easy for the two of them to orbit around one another, to find solace in this one constant. 

But there are differences, too. Peter was unjustly stolen from existence, and justly brought back to live the future he deserved. Tony made a willing sacrifice, and was brought back on the capricious whims of some magical rocks. Peter would inevitably find a job, find a wife or husband, get married, and have kids. He was young. He healed fast, and got up quickly. He could reshape himself any way he wanted. It was too late for Tony to do the same.

-

When Peter gets back from patrol, at exactly three fifty-one— not that Tony’s been watching the clock, nope, not at all— he greets Tony with a long, exaggerated yawn. 

“What’re you working on, Mr. Stark? Maybe I can help.”

Tony had asked him to call him by his first name, but the _ Mr. Stark _slips out from time to time, especially when he’s tired or lets his guard down. “I’m good, actually. The way you are right now, you’d be a liability, not an asset. I don’t want to deal with the property damages your super strength would cause when you’re half-asleep. Go to bed, kid. I’ll be here in the morning.” 

“Here like in my bed?” says Peter, slurred. Tony stiffens. The kid’s eyes are already half-lidded, footsteps dragging with exhaustion. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Here like in the lab,” says Tony firmly. 

“Oh, okay,” says Peter. He yawns again, and stretches like a cat. “I’ll be here too, then. Don’t want you to be lonely.” He sits down on the floor and drapes one of Tony’s spare hoodies over himself, snuggling into it like a makeshift blanket. 

Tony doesn’t tell Peter that having Peter around only makes him feel lonelier. Turning back to his blueprints, he lets himself work to the rhythm of Peter’s soft snoring. When he’s absolutely sure that Peter is fast asleep, he picks him up, carries him all the way to Peter’s bedroom, and tucks him in.

-

He gets Morgan for the weekend. The three of them— Tony, Morgan, and Peter— take a day trip to the amusement park. Morgan looks sullen when she’s just barely an inch too short to ride the wooden roller coaster, so Tony uses some nanobots from his suit to attach tiny jets to Morgan's feet, allowing her to float an inch in the air and meet the height requirements. 

“She was slouching earlier,” Tony explains. 

“Are you Tony Stark?” The confused but tired-looking worker squints at him.

“I’ll let you take a photo with me if you let her on.”

The worker gladly lets the three of them on. Tony regrets spending all that effort on the nanojet shoes, but files it away as a future business idea. Maybe when he retires, he can go into retail.

The cotton candy that Morgan begs for later on, though? That's something Tony won’t budge on. 

“You’ve already been to the dentist three times this year for your cavities, and that’s three too many. Your mom’s going to kill me when all your teeth fall out.”

“You could make new ones out of nanobots for me,” says Morgan. 

“Look at this spoiled brat,” says Tony incredulously to Peter. “Who raised her like this?”

“I think it was you,” Peter laughs, and Morgan laughs too. Tony finds that he doesn’t mind being ganged up on if he gets to see his two favourite people smile like this.

Hours later, Tony comes back from a quick bathroom break to see Peter and Morgan shoving the remnants of two huge cotton candy sticks into their mouths. Morgan beams proudly, and Peter grins sheepishly. 

“I thought I told you not to do anything I wouldn’t do,” says Tony, pointing an accusing finger at Peter.

“Grey area,” says Peter, licking cotton candy crumbs off his lips and grinning. 

When it’s Peter’s turn to run off to the bathroom before the car ride home, Morgan turns to Tony. “Do you remember my friend from school, the one with the glasses?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Kevin, was it?”

“Carlos,” says Morgan with a roll of her eyes. “How can you remember all those engineering formulas but you can’t remember a single one of my friends’ names?”

Tony chuckles. “You got me there. Sorry, kiddo, I promise I’ll do better.” He ruffles her hair. “So? What about Carlos?” 

Morgan squirms and smooths her hair back down. Soon, she’ll grow up to be too old for this, too wrapped up in keeping up appearances to hang out with her dad at the amusement park. “For English class, we had to write essays about our families, and he wrote about his two dads.” 

“Did someone make fun of him?” 

“No, Dad, don't jump to conclusions," says Morgan, crossing her arms. "He won the grand prize. I was kind of mad, because I only got second place, and _ my _ dad is freaking _ Iron Man. _What I’m saying is, if I could write about having a mom and two dads, and the other dad was Spider-Man—”

“Wait, wait. Hold up. Hold it right there. Who said anything about—”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on, Dad. It’s so obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” says Peter, emerging from the bathroom and wiping his hands on his jeans. His hair's messy from going on rides all day, and there's a blue cotton candy crumb still staining his cheek, and he looks like the man of Tony's dreams.

“It’s obvious that my dad wants cotton candy too,” says Morgan peppily. “He’s mad that you didn’t get him any.”

_This kid, _Tony thinks fondly to himself. Changing the topic and throwing Tony under the bus all at once. He wonders yet again where she learned to do that, but he already knows the answer.

“Oh, yeah, I thought so too,” says Peter. In a stage whisper to Morgan, he says, “He's kind of a hypocrite, isn't he?” He nudges Tony with his elbow, and says, “Come on, Morgan’s dad. Let’s get you some cotton candy.” 

-

Tony drops Morgan off at Pepper’s place, and he and Peter drive back home. And so life goes on, with more of the same— working on upgrades for his team and Peter, grabbing the occasional meal with said team and daily meals with Peter, catching up with Morgan and sometimes Pepper. The kind of domestic life that Tony didn’t think he’d get a shot at. A happy ever after, save for one thing. 

Peter’s stay at the compound is time-limited. They knew that from the start. As soon as he gets a job and saves up enough to afford his own apartment— he’d vehemently turned down Tony’s offer to buy him one— he’s going to move out of here and be on his own. Tony won’t have an excuse to be in his life anymore. Tony aggressively does not think about that day, even when it looms ever closer. 

The next time Tony has Morgan is two weeks later. They spend the day at the Museum of Natural History checking out some new exhibits, and Tony grows ever surer that she really is her father’s daughter when he sees her eyes light up with an unquenchable thirst for learning. He wonders how Peter would enjoy the exhibit, although he was the one who'd suggested that Peter should stay home and send out more job applications. Tony doesn’t quite understand how companies are passing over such a qualified candidate, with not one but two internships under his belt— one with Stark Industries and one with Oscorp, although they don’t talk about that. Peter should have more than a couple job offers lined up by now. 

When Tony comes home a bit earlier than planned, he walks into his bedroom and sees Peter smoking a joint on Tony’s bed. 

“Pete,” says Tony. Peter looks up lethargically, and then his eyes widen a couple seconds later than usual. 

“Oh! Mr. Stark— sorry, sir, I—” He tries to get up off the bed, then flops back down on it and giggles up at the ceiling. “Your room is really swimmy.”

“Swimmy,” says Tony, deadpan. “I thought you were working on job applications.”

“I thought you were with Morgan.”

“She had homework, so I dropped her off early. That doesn’t explain why you’re in my room.”

Peter shrugs. “I was just getting high, but then I missed you. Hey, wanna sit?” 

_ I missed you. _Tony tries very hard not to think about that statement as he sits down next to Peter on the bed and hauls him up. This time, the kid does manage to sit up straight, but then he leans on Tony’s shoulder and passes him the joint.

“Want some?” says Peter. 

“Not really, no,” says Tony. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re too old for this kind of stuff, aren’t you.” 

Tony takes the joint from Peter’s fingers and smokes it. Peter laughs. They sit like that, passing the joint between them for a little while until Tony puts a hand on Peter’s chin to move his head away, so that he can scratch the spot on his neck that Peter’s hair has been tickling for the past five minutes. And then Peter leans up and presses his lips to Tony’s. 

Tony’s nerves suddenly stand at attention, hyperaware of Peter’s lips, warm and soft, pressed to his own. Peter swipes his tongue across Tony’s bottom lip and Tony opens his mouth instinctively. Peter passes the smoke into it and Tony chokes on it, jerking away.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” says Peter with a giggle. He puts his hand on Tony’s arm and tugs him closer. “Come on, let’s try it again.” He starts to take another smoke, but Tony grips his wrist, stopping him.

“Peter,” says Tony. His brain is barely functioning, but just enough to say, “What are you doing?” 

“Making out with you?” says Peter. “But, like, with weed also. It’s fun. I used to do it a lot back in college.” 

Tony decidedly does not want to think about Peter making out with other people. “That’s good to know,” he says flatly.

“Don’t worry, they were just casual flings,” says Peter with a smile that’s almost self-deprecating. Still, his eyes twinkle at Tony, earnest and fond. “I could never really get over you.”

Something lodges in Tony’s throat. His fight-or-flight instincts activate. The gears in his brain, barely turning, remind him that this is precisely the conversation he’s been trying to avoid all this time. But the part of Tony’s brain that is constantly chanting _ Peter Peter Peter _ overpowers him and urges him to press his lips to Peter’s again. So he does. 

This time, it’s passionate, hungry, bordering on filthy. The noises Peter makes as Tony licks into his mouth shoot straight to Tony’s crotch, and his limbs act of their own accord until he’s got Peter pinned down against the bed. When Tony pulls away, there’s a string of spit connecting their tongues. Peter arches up to chase it, to pull Tony in for another kiss, and that’s when Tony notices the bulge in the front of Peter’s pants.

“Pete,” says Tony, strained. “We can’t.”

Peter whines and jerks his hips up, still a little too uncoordinated, so that they land just short of Tony’s crotch. “Please,” he begs. _ “Please, _Tony. I want— I need—”

Tony doesn’t want to look at the way Peter’s eyes are laced with desire, the way he looks so goddamn beautiful spread out underneath Tony, ready and wanting. He groans and buries his head in the pillow next to Peter, which is a total mistake, because that only brings their bodies closer together and allows Peter to arch his crotch right up against Tony’s, and _ fuck, _every part of his body ignites and pushes all other thoughts to the side. 

Tony doesn’t know whether he’s really high, or just high on Peter’s touch— probably both. Regardless, nothing has ever felt quite like this. It’s surreal and all too real at the same time. Peter writhes and moans under Tony as he grinds his hips hard against him, clawing desperately at the bedsheets until Peter suddenly comes with no warning, choked cry echoing in Tony’s ears along with the pounding of his heartbeat, because damn, that just happened. Tony did_ this _to Peter, without even touching him.

“S-sorry,” Peter gasps out, face flushed a brilliant red. “I— my senses—”

“That was really hot,” says Tony lowly, leaning in to nip at the velvety soft skin just below Peter’s ear. Peter jolts and whimpers, body shuddering. 

“You want to stop here?” says Tony, starting to pull away.

“No,” says Peter emphatically. “No, no, we’re just getting started. See?” He grabs Tony’s hand rather forcefully, and tugs it down to palm at his own cock, which is still hard. Tony curses under his breath— this kid will really be the death of him. He palms Peter through the fabric for a little while, until Peter’s eyes are fluttering shut and his muscles are tensing up, and it looks like he’s dangerously close again. Then, he pulls Peter’s pants and boxers down and tosses them aside hastily. 

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “Mr. Stark, I— _ please—” _

“Use your words, Pete,” says Tony, desire overtaking his brain-to-mouth filter entirely. “How should I know what you want unless you ask for it?”

“Fuck me,” says Peter. “Fuck me, _ fuck me, _ Mr. Stark, I need it— _ oh—” _

For all Tony wanted to hear Peter beg, as soon as those words fall from his lips Tony loses all control. What’s left of his restraint snaps clean in half and he unzips his jeans and tugs them down along with his boxers, freeing his fully hard cock, then pushes Peter’s legs apart, hooking them over his shoulders.

Peter starts laughing, raising an uncoordinated arm over his face to muffle the sound.

“What?” says Tony.

“Oh my God, Tony, has it really been that long?” says Peter, through a fit of giggles. “Lube. Lube is a thing.”

“I know that,” says Tony petulantly. It’s a good thing that he’s not lucid enough to feel his pride being wounded by a recent college grad schooling him in sex. Tony _ knows _how sex works, okay? It’s just, well, Peter is all he can think about. And also, there’s the weed, which he hasn’t smoked in a really long time. “DUM-E, get the lube,” he says thoughtlessly.

“Get it yourself, you lazy bum,” says Peter. Tony absolutely refuses to move, and he’s got Peter pinned down— though he knows Peter could easily throw Tony off him with that strength of his. Regardless, the lube arrives courtesy of Tony's faithful friend, and Peter bursts into another fit of laughter as he snatches it up from the robot’s claws and tosses it to Tony, who catches it. 

All it takes is one lubed-up finger slipping inside of Peter’s entrance to get him to come a second time. Peter squeezes and tightens around Tony in a way that has Tony aching to be inside of him right this second. Tony kisses Peter through his orgasm, eating up every delicious whimper that escapes his throat, running his hands along Peter’s sides as he shudders and trembles through it.

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter, high and needy. “Oh, God, I—” Seemingly incapable of forming a full sentence, Peter decides instead to push back on Tony’s finger, fucking himself on it. “More, _ more.” _

Tony gives him more, adds a second and a third until he’s stuffed full and stretched open, ready for Tony’s cock, which is dripping pre-come. When Tony finally pushes inside of Peter, he lets himself go still and revel in the feeling of being inside _ Peter. _It’s fucking incredible, is what it is. Feeling Peter all around him, tight and hot, and Peter’s heels digging into his shoulders as a surprised whine dies in his throat.

As soon as Tony moves Peter comes again with no warning, spilling messily onto the front of his t-shirt, which Tony had been in too much of a hurry to discard. Tony pushes the hem of it up to Peter’s chin, to get it out of the way, and Peter obediently takes the shirt between his teeth. The view is incredible— now Tony can see those sinfully gorgeous abs twitch and contract every time he moves, every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of Peter.

Peter’s cries are muffled around the fabric, and when Tony hits that sweet spot Peter drops the shirt from his mouth, letting out a choked whine and coming for a fourth time. 

“Tell me if you want a break,” says Tony, pausing to tuck a stray, sweaty strand of hair out of Peter’s face and behind his ear. 

“Fuck me _ harder,” _says Peter. "Please, sir."

Tony does. He shifts Peter up further off the bed, seeking a better angle, and drives himself in deeper and faster. Losing himself in the mindless pleasure, the dizzying heat, and the way Peter groans and gasps and squirms underneath him, he finds himself coming too, burying a choked shout into the crook of Peter’s neck. Peter curls a hand in his hair, whimpering as he lets Tony ride out his orgasm inside him. Tony pulls out, watching his come drip out of Peter’s hole, and that sight is enough to get him going again. The drug’s definitely doing something terrible to his brain, because without thinking he dips his finger in it and holds it up to Peter’s mouth. Unquestioningly, Peter takes Tony’s come-stained fingers into his mouth, running his tongue along the pads of his fingers, and Tony’s soft dick nearly stirs again. 

“Good boy,” says Tony. He strokes Peter’s hair, and barely brushes his other hand against Peter’s cock before Peter comes again, body jerking and fists yanking so hard at the bedsheets so hard they tear. 

Tony keeps stroking his hair through the aftershocks, absentmindedly filing away all the details he now knows about Peter’s habits in bed. Multiple orgasms— five, to be precise— and a praise kink, to boot. “Are we good, or do we want to keep going?” 

“We’re good,” says Peter, sounding wrecked and exhausted as he lets his head roll back. And then he looks down at the torn piece of fabric in his hand, and looks up at Tony, horrified. “Oh God— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

Tony presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “It’s fine. I can order new ones any time I want. Besides, how can I complain when I just witnessed the hottest orgasm of my life?” 

Peter blushes a scarlet red. “No way,” he says, hitting Tony lightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” says Tony. He rolls over next to Peter. “So, do you want to use the shower first?”

Peter groans and stretches, wincing a little as he starts to feel the impact of what they’d done on his body. “Oh, yeah. A shower sounds great.” 

As Peter gets up and uses the shower, Tony lies back and slowly lets the post-coital bliss, the fleeting moment of happiness, settle into inevitable dread. He’d had _ sex, _ with _ Peter, _with the one person he’d been trying to keep himself away from. He’d done the one thing in the world that everyone around him was wrongfully convinced would be a good idea, even though he knew firsthand how terrible of an idea it was to drag Peter even further into the mess that was Tony Stark. 

Peter comes back, hair fluffy and wet and wearing a silly grin on his face, completely oblivious. “I left you some hot water,” he says.

“You’re in the Tony Stark residence. There’s always hot water,” says Tony, trying to lighten the mood despite the heaviness crushing down on his chest. 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re the one percent and the rest of us aren’t,” Peter laughs. “Maybe I should go back in there, use your shower jets some more to get the most out of it. I guess I’ll do that next time.”

There are a lot of words on the tip of Tony’s tongue. He could tell Peter how badly he wants there to be a _next time_. Or he could tell him how badly he knows that would turn out. Maybe he could even invite Peter into the shower with him, if only Tony could get it up again. Instead, he says nothing. He heads into the shower and turns on the water, watches the droplets race down the foggy glass walls, and wonders how to put his own feelings into words. Wonders how to turn Peter down before it’s all too late.

When Tony gets back from the shower, Peter’s got a bathrobe slung haphazardly over himself, dropping off one shoulder in an incredibly sexy fashion. Tony almost second-guesses his own decision right then and there in favour of fingerfucking Peter to a sixth mind-blowing orgasm.

“Hey,” Peter says with a sweet smile that somehow makes Tony sad. 

“Hey,” says Tony as he climbs into bed next to Peter. Peter snuggles up close to him, and Tony tries to keep his breathing very quiet and still. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” says Peter. 

Tony knows where this is going. He doesn’t like where this is going. “That depends what it is.”

Peter giggles and shoves him. “You’re funny.” He takes in a breath, and exhales. “You know, I lied about the job applications. I already have a job lined up. I just told them I had to start a couple months from now because of a family emergency.” 

Of the things Tony expected Peter to say, this was not one of them. Tony’s head whips to look at Peter so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter looks down shyly, the tips of his ears flushed pink. “You’d kick me out of the compound,” he says quietly. Tony can’t even argue with that, because it’s true. “I like this, all of it. The Avengers thing, the Netflix marathons, hanging out with Morgan— and getting to see you every night. I guess I didn’t want it to end.”

“You think I’m lonely,” says Tony, latching on to the closest plausible excuse. “Believe me, I’m not. Nat’s living at the compound full-time, and the others drop by a lot— and there’s Morgan, of course. I’ve got more than enough company.”

“That's not it,” says Peter. He scooches further up the bed and glares up at Tony, clearly frustrated. “I just want to be with you. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Look, Pete, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m not the same guy plastered all over the headlines and in the news. You've seen me— the real me. I’m not getting any younger. I’ve got to stop being Iron Man someday. I’ll pass on Stark Industries to somebody else. You get that, right?”

“No, I don't get it,” says Peter. “Why are you so worried about everybody moving on without you?” 

“Because everybody _ did,” _says Tony, feeling everything rush out of him all at once. “Peter, I died. It wasn’t the same as when it happened to half the universe. I sacrificed myself. I didn’t want to die, but I was ready for it. I did pretty much everything I wanted to do while I was alive. And then the world moved on from Iron Man. I can keep doing the whole hero gig, fade into the background, but that’s all going to come to an end sometime. And then what’s left for me?”

“I didn’t move on,” says Peter. In his eyes, Tony sees that kid again, the high-schooler who was desperate to impress his childhood hero, the kid dragged into a nebulous fight he shouldn’t have been a part of, dissolving into dust in Tony’s arms. The kid who would do anything for Tony’s affection, unaware that he already had it. “I was _ not _ fine without you, Tony. We’ve already gone over this, like, a hundred times. My _senses_ stopped working. I gave Beck access to your _drones_. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but it hurts when you say that there’s nothing left for you when I’m right here.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he looks away, furiously blinking back tears. 

Tony can’t help it. He pulls Peter into a hug, holding him close, and Peter melts into his embrace like he always has, like the time Tony first came back to life. Peter clutches tightly at him, like a lifeline. Tony wishes Peter didn't need him just as much as he needed Peter. It would make things so much easier.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says softly into Peter’s hair, which still smells like drugstore shampoo despite living in a compound with luxury amenities. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know how much I care about you. You know how much it killed me to not see you graduate high school, to not be there for you when you were fighting Mysterio. I want to see you be happy, Peter. Believe me, I couldn’t want anything more.”

Peter looks up, eyes rimmed with red. “Then be _happy,” _he says sharply. “Let yourself be happy, for fuck’s sake. Honestly? Sometimes I feel like Morgan's easier to take care of than you are. How can I be happy when you’re wallowing in self-pity all the time? When you won’t let yourself have the things you want because you don’t think you deserve them? You saved the _universe, _Tony. If anyone deserves good things, it’s you. Everybody can see it. Everybody but you.”

Faced with the unshakable conviction in Peter's eyes, Tony finally begins to understand. The thing between them was never flirtatious banter between colleagues, or a living arrangement of convenience, or an accidental tryst while high. None of those things could begin to encapsulate the gravity of what was between them. If anything came close, then it would be this moment, right now— Peter holding onto him, like after all this time, he never once wanted to let him go.

“Kid," says Tony softly. "It would be my privilege to deserve you.”

“Tony,” says Peter, eyes full to the brim with the thing Tony finally dares to recognize as adoration. 

Tony kisses him, then. It’s the only thing that he can do. When he pulls away, with their foreheads pressed together, Peter looks at him, wide-eyed. 

“Tony?” he says, in a stunned whisper. “I— are you sure?"

“You’re right,” says Tony. “I’ve been having a hard time letting myself be happy. I might need someone around to stay with me and hold me accountable.” He takes Peter’s hands in his own. “That is, if you’d have me.”

“Of course I will,” says Peter, his laugh light and easy. “Because you make me happy too, Tony. You really do.” 

This time it’s Peter who goes in for the hug, pulling Tony close, and for the first time since he came back, Tony feels whole.

-

“So?” says Peter, after they’ve made out for twenty minutes, and his lips are bitten red and Tony is dizzy with joy. “What took you so long? Why now? I’ve been gunning after this for years.”

“Well, there was that one time when we were both high,” says Tony. “Did you forget about that already? I’m hurt.” 

Peter laughs. “No, I’m just curious. Like, what changed? You were pretty dead set on not noticing all my flirting even when everybody else did.” 

Tony shrugs. “Hey, if I'm never going to be able to live without you, and you're not going to be able to live without me either, I figured we should try something different. Like not trying to live without each other.” 

Peter kisses Tony again, soft and sweet, and curls a hand in his hair. “The trial period’s working out pretty well. I think I’m sold.” 

Tony chuckles. “If you were so eager for it all along, why didn’t you just ask me out?”

Peter blushes. “I wanted to take it slow,” says Peter. “I mean, at first you were adjusting to being alive again, and getting the Avengers back together, and then there's the whole thing with Morgan. There was never really a good time.”

“If you're worried about fitting into my life, there's no need. You two get along better than she and I do. I’m pretty sure you're already her new favourite person.” 

“I mean, it wasn't just that.” Peter looks sheepish. “It's just, as much as I don’t care about the age gap— and I really don’t, so don’t start with me— you’ve already experienced marriage and all of that stuff, and I haven’t. I just thought… maybe you'd get bored of me. Maybe you wouldn’t want to go through all of that again.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” says Tony. “Wait— is this your way of saying you want to get married?”

Peter turns bright red. “I, um. No? I mean, yes? Whatever you want it to mean. If you want to get married, then yes. If not, just forget I said anything.” 

Tony kisses Peter on the cheek, soft and chaste, and takes Peter’s hand into his own. “Oh, kid, I’d marry you any time. I’d give you the world if you asked. You know that, right?” 

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand in his own and smiles. “I’ve already got it,” he says, poking Tony on his nose playfully. “Right here.”

-

Sometimes, Tony finds himself wishing they hadn’t collectively decided to demolish the time travelling contraption. Maybe he could go back to _before _Peter broke the announcement and fix it somehow, because right now? Right now, Tony has no idea how they got here.

"An engagement!" says Thor in a booming voice, loud enough to catch Tony's attention over the commotion of the compound. "What wonderful news, Parker!"

"Hold on a second," Tony cuts in, rushing over to Peter and Thor for damage control. "Let's all take a step back. Take three steps back. Maybe ten. What the hell made you think that? Peter, what did you tell him?"

"Nothing," says Peter, bewildered. "I told him the story of how we got together, and now everyone thinks we're _engaged."_

"Congratulations," says Shuri, shaking Peter's hand enthusiastically. "When will the wedding ceremony be? I will make sure that my brother and I visit again in time for the special day."

"There isn't going to be one," says Peter. "I— we _literally _got together _last week."_

“Oh, yeah, sure,” says Sam with a hearty laugh. “We've all seen your shoddy attempt at hiding your relationship for the past what, half a year? I'm not falling for it, but nice try.” 

“I think this calls for a celebratory meal,” says Scott. "Don't you, Tony? Put those billions of dollars to good use. Treat the less fortunate."

Later, over an incredible amount of Asgardian mead, Thor makes a toast to Tony and Peter’s supposed engagement. Tony looks over at Nat incredulously. She shrugs back. _Traitor, _he mouths openly at her. She ignores him in favour of cutting a clean line into her steak. Then Tony turns to look at Peter, who squeezes Tony's hand with an unconcerned smile. They drink together as Thor raises his glass and says, “To many, many millennia to come for the lovely couple.” 

“You know we can’t all live that long, right?” Bruce points out.

“Hey, don’t discount it,” says Tony. “I’ve been growing antsy since time travel. Immortality might be next on my list of inventions.”

Peter laughs at that, eyes shining with amused affection. Tony looks at him, and looks at all the people they call home, and thinks to himself, _ it really is good to be back. _


End file.
